The Sloppy Murder of Maria
by dimension7
Summary: Exactly what the title says.  The beginning of the calamity in Istavan, the where, why and how.  Mildly graphic violence, and child Dietrich.  Written quickly and not obsessively read and reread again, so maybe a bit rougher than some of my others.


Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. If I did, I'd put 'em on the corner to make me some money, but since I can't, and they make me no money, I guess I'll just wrap this disclaimer up.

Warnings: Obviously there will be a sloppy murder herein. It is mildly graphic. Having never murdered anyone, it may also be poorly written.

"What about Istavan? Weren't they restoring a satellite there?" Cain absently twiddled his fingers through his hair, asking as nonchalantly as possible. Isaak, exasperated, looked up from the piles of open books laying about him, and stared at Cain for a moment, unspeaking. Dietrich giggled a little, knowing full well that Isaak would not speak his mind, would not ask why Cain had set him to digging up some sort of mission when he'd known all along about the work being done in Istavan. They were funny that way, Cain trying to get Isaak to read his mind, Isaak grasping at straws, giving in to simplicity at length.

"Gyula Qadar is a force of his own, and his military is near impenetrable, between the Empire and Vatican countries… It's his Terran wife though that is behind the scenes on this one…" Cain's eyes sparkled, delighted that Isaak immediately jumped for it. Dietrich, as was his wont, jumped in just in time to ruin it.

"Just be rid of the woman then. She's all that's in the way." Silky venomous words behind a sweetly demonic smirk, Dietrich beamed. Cain, however, was not amused.

"While Isaak may insist you to be a genius, _all you are is a means to pull threads. _Do not forget this, and do not speak to me out of turn again."

It was easy to see that Dietrich had not spoken his peace, either trembling in fear or shaking in rage. Cain narrowed his eyes at the child, a dare. Dietrich bit.

"Then let me pull the threads dammit!"

"Absolutely not. I will not give you the satisfaction, not now. A moment ago Isaak could have assigned whoever and however he liked, but now, due to your impertinence," Cain bent at the knee and looked Dietrich evenly in the eyes, "Isaak is going to pull the strings on his own." Cain's hands crushed onto Dietrich's tiny shoulders, and his nails began to dig. Dietrich hadn't really learned yet the futility of resistance, and tried to squirm away, caught in that proverbial place betwixt hard things.

The evening may have ended with Guderian digging a hole and Isaak shoeing the corpse of his dead pet into it-less remorseful than one who's lost a goldfish-but it did not. What saved Dietrich's very young life was Isaak's quiet cough, and extremely good reason.

"The Countess. She loves children. Little. Lost. Terran. Children." With a howl of laughter Cain dropped Dietrich (who was beginning to guess what it felt like to be murdered rather than to murder) and stood straight up.

"Tell me then, oh Great Sage-who would have me show this insect mercy- how do you plan to do whatever it is you plan to do?" Again merriment danced in Cain's eyes, his indulgence of Isaak more than a small bit obvious.

"I haven't got to get into her head to pull her strings Mien Herr. To use this woman will be simple," Isaak said these words almost as though there were any woman it would not be easy for him to use, "you see, it is common knowledge that she frequents the churches and orphanages in the slums. That's why the public opinion is so _very_ high of her. If I bait her with the brat," with a glance Isaak indicated sulking Dietrich who was still sprawled on the floor, "it will be no hard task. Gyula will think the Vatican to blame, a church-wrought assassination upon his good and beautiful wife. The denials of the clergy will only fuel his hatred and need for revenge. Before long, rather than support The Pearl of the Danube and Her people, he'll turn his Wife's beloved Star into one of sorrow." The maniacal laugh so characteristic of Isaak spilled out of his throat then, and rang against the walls and hallways of their latest home.

~.~.~.~.~.~.

Isaak never showed much interest in Dietrich's basic and menial things, such as his clothes, and therefore it was with some fidgeting and whining that Dietrich begrudgingly allowed Isaak to inspect his person, adding and subtracting from the ragamuffin costume as he saw fit. The illusion of Dietrich being neglected and dirty was only that, an illusion. Neither Mage nor Puppetmaster had been fond of the idea of Dietrich _really_ smelling like garbage, or _really_ wearing rags, and it didn't matter anyway because the woman would never notice, probably never even realize that the child had anything to do with it. She would think that she died for a good reason! The hilarity was not lost on Von Kampfer, and he was tempted to cast a glamour on the bitch herself, just to relive killing that vile woman from University again. All he ever had to do was remember University and W_(illiam Walter Wordsworth)_hat it had been like there, and suddenly killing was very very simple. Not that killing someone for Cain would have been hard.

Finally Isaak stood up and held Dietrich at arm's length, inspecting. "Fine. Just do what I told you to do, play into her hand, then run away. Lure her down here."

"Isaak, that's so _stupid though_. I could just _make_ her come down here, why play games?" Dietrich was dripping petulance, ready to throw himself to the cobblestones thrashing and crying because Cain wasn't here to murder him for it.

"Because," Isaak explained, very much in the voice of a weary father to his questioning son, _"_games are played for fun."

~.~.~.~.~.~.

Dietrich was a little surprised to see that even without contorting his unsuspecting victim against her will in a blood curdling fashion manipulation could be fun. Her bleeding heart immediately set her to his plight, and her fool's brain triggered her doomed feet, and she ran after him as quickly as her skirts could allow.

Isaak was going to wait for them in an alleyway that he'd conveniently swallowed with shadows. No one would notice or see a thing, but inside the alleyway it would be just as bright as day.

Dietrich rounded a corner, his little legs pumping at full-tilt-boogie (the only time in his entire childhood he would ever remember running) and spotted the alley. He let her catch up with him, and with a fearful glance back over his shoulder, he ducked into the dreaded and sticky darkness he knew Isaak's shadows to be.

The idiot followed him, as they'd known she would.

First were the screams of horror as she was pushed and squelched and pulled and tasted by the shadows, a membrane of all-consuming dark, then was the shock as she passed through and came to stand again on her own two feet. Thirdly, but not last, was the sickening _CRACK_ as Isaak struck the woman with his cane, swung like a bat, across her face.

In a gush of crimson the woman's nose shattered and her left eye (Dietrich, demon-child he was, couldn't believe what he was seeing) plopped out of her face. As she began to fall forward, her hands blindly flying up, her eye flailed behind her, free on the wind. Pieces of broken bone had scattered from her destroyed face and scattered by her feet.

She crumpled to the ground and Isaak threw the remains of his now snapped cane at her, then flew into a flurry of kicking and swearing. Dietrich's eyes grew wide, how he'd never seen this sort of hatred from Isaak almost… scared him. The cursed woman squealed and cried, hands clasping on nothing, remaining teeth jaggedly ripping through her lips.

Isaak laughed and laughed, at length standing back to observe the wreckage. The broken inside-out thing clung onto life though, choked gurgling breaths and whimpers a testimony to the tenacity of human survival.

Isaak looked at what was left of her face(?) and spit into it, praying to his lost Gods that she could still see with that one eye. Then he very deliberately delivered a final blow to her, stomping on her contused head, reveling in the eventual POP! of her remaining eye, grinning as arms and legs flailed brokenly, flapping like useless wings, and then fading back into reality as she cooled. Isaak distantly heard himself speaking, saying _her name over and over again_

_Dietrich gaped, and only remembered to breathe when Isaak finally stopped intoning that dead word and looked up at him as though lost. With an awkward smile, Isaak slowly peeled his gore-spattered gloves from his fingers like it made him somehow look better. Dietrich passed out._

_Maria Qadar's defiled corpse was never recovered, her whereabouts never confirmed, and the clergy of Istavan began to sleep with their lights on. Cain smiled to himself, it would only be a matter of time before Gyula would do something rash, and he and his magician could sit from the shadows and watch as the Vatican and the Empire would set the funeral pyre of the entire world._


End file.
